Hounded
by Esseraph
Summary: Seven year old Harry Potter is more tired than ever of the abuse heaped upon him by the Dursleys and thinks that maybe they'd like him better if he were a dog. They don't, but Duo Maxwell sure thinks he's adorable.


**AN: **So I'm finally publishing something here and I'm rather nervous. I hope it'll be received well. Please review and tell me what you think, what worked, and what didn't. Do you have any predictions for what's going to happen?

This is set after Endless Waltz by about about two years, so the pilots are 18 or so. I know the timelines are drastically different and I've done my research, but for now just know that the timelines are merged. The wizarding world won't be a big deal for a while yet so bear with me. I do have the pairings in mind already, but I could probably be swayed one way or another. The romance isn't the focus for this story in any case..

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing you recognize.

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**Hounded : Chapter One**

Harry leaned further forward, bracing his hands against the counter for balance and frowned in concentration as he tried to hear the television. Dinner in the Dursley household had finished not long ago and he was doing dishes, perched on a stool so he could actually reach the sink well enough to use it. His relatives were gathered in the living room to watch some recently released movie for 'family time'. He, obviously, did not count as family.

Sighing softly, the boy relaxed back and returned to scrubbing the pans used for that night's dinner. His stomach growled and Harry winced, mentally pleading for it to be quiet. He really didn't want his aunt or uncle to hear and get yelled at for being ungrateful. There had been no leftovers tonight, courtesy of his piggy cousin, and he hadn't been able to finish the entire chore list set out for him by Aunt Petunia. So no dinner for him was forthcoming. Harry looked up again when Dudley raised his voice into a demanding whine.

"But Mum! I want a dog! A big one, like that!"

"Now, now sweetums, we can go visit Auntie Marge this weekend and you can play with her doggies! Wouldn't that be lovely popkin? You'd get to play with the puppies and see your favorite aunt, all at once," Aunt Petunia simpered.

Though his view was blocked by the wall, Harry could clearly imagine how his aunt would be hugging Dudley. He tried to push aside the flash of resentment the thought brought with it but didn't manage very well. While hugging Aunt Petunia didn't look like the most comfortable thing, bony as she was, Harry couldn't help but think that he'd like a hug once in a while too. But such thoughts were best left alone, he knew. The older Dursleys avoided touching him whenever possible, except to give him a shove or slap, and he certainly didn't need any more of that.

Harry rinsed the last of the soap off and placed the skillet on the drying rack, already thinking of how to do better with making breakfast in the morning. He needed to get it done quickly but well enough that Dudley wouldn't make a fuss. The earlier he started on his chores, the better. Going two days without lunch or dinner wasn't anything new, but Harry certainly preferred to avoid it when he could. Dishes done, the seven year old hopped off the stool and put it away.

"Aunt Petunia," he said softly and walked into the hall, stopping just before the living room. Dirty freaks shouldn't be on the new carpet after all. "I've finished the dishes."

The woman shed her smile and briskly shoved Harry ahead of her and along into the cupboard, locking it behind him. Harry watched her shadow move out of sight and made a face at the door. Evidently he wasn't going to get a shower tonight, despite working mostly in the yard the past two days. '_Probably so Uncle Vernon can complain about me stinking up the place in the morning.'_ Harry thought darkly and flopped back on his makeshift bed.

Settled and with no hope of being let out till morning, the boy's thoughts drifted back to Dudley's earlier tantrum. The very thought of his spoiled cousin actually getting a dog, and probably a beastly one at that, made him shudder. While Harry would be the one to clean up after it and generally take care of the less pleasant parts, his cousin and uncle would surely be the ones to train it. Harry Hunting was bad already, the addition of a dog would make it unbearable.

'_It wouldn't be fair at all that even a dog would be treated better than me.' _It was a stupid thought and Harry knew it. After all, when had the Dursleys ever been fair? Then came an even more stupid idea, '_would they like me if I was a dog then?'_ When Harry fell asleep hours later, he was thinking about finally being loved by his family, even if he had to be a dog for it to happen.

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It wasn't Aunt Petunia rapping on his cupboard door that woke Harry the next morning, but a smell so intense and delicious that he didn't even mind the lost sleeping time. It smelled like someone fried up a whole pound of bacon, just for him. Harry drifted further toward wakefulness, reluctant to start the day before he had to but very aware of his grumbling stomach.

But something was very off when he tried to sit up, and again when he went to grab the covers and drag them off. Nothing moved how it should. His arms were stiff, his head was heavy, and his legs didn't seem to be as long as they had been last night. Maybe he was still dreaming?

"Wake up Harry!" the boy told himself firmly. Something sounded a bit off but that didn't matter, of course, since this was a dream.

"Boy, what is that racket!"

For the first time on his life, Harry was relieved to hear his aunt's voice. It must have worked! She would come open his cupboard any second now and he could start breakfast. Maybe he could even eat before starting his chores.

The door to his room jerked open and he could see Aunt Petunia silhouetted by the light in the hall. Even with the shadows, Harry could see her face abruptly slacken in horror. It was the same expression she'd worn when his hair grew back overnight. Her shriek made his head ring and the door slamming only made it worse.

Harry simply lay there, dazed and wondering what could possibly be going on. He was awake and everything was weird still. What was Aunt Petunia going to do? What about Uncle Vernon? The very idea made him shudder, imagining the thrashing he'd get for disturbing his aunt.

He'd just decided to ride out whatever was going on and hope everything went back to normal when the cupboard door opened again, this time with Uncle Vernon behind it.

"This…! No more! We've put up with this freakishness for quite long enough! I know just what to do with you, boy."

Harry had never seen his uncle so crazed and scrambled to get away when he reached in with a meaty hand to grab him by the neck. Feeling as strange as he was, Harry didn't manage to avoid getting caught in his uncle's painful grasp. _'Since when did he even have enough loose skin anywhere to be grabbed by it? What was wrong with his body?'_

Vernon lifted him bodily out of the cupboard and held Harry up at arm's distance, sneering hatefully at his nephew. This gave Harry the opportunity to see exactly what was wrong with him. Last night, he'd gone to sleep as a boy but woken up as a scruffy black puppy. Unable to do anything else, the boy-turned-dog writhed in his uncle's grip, desperate to get away from what he knew would be a terrible punishment for his freakishness.

In short order, the whale of a man dumped his nephew into a cardboard box and roughly folded the corners in so it would stay shut.

All Harry knew for a long time after was darkness and the sound of the car's engine.


End file.
